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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25809814">Quarterly Lust</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omeganixtra/pseuds/Omeganixtra'>Omeganixtra</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Sin Bin - Kink Meme Collection [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Destiny (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Cayde you kinky bastard, F/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, all of the sex, don't you judge me, self-indulgent trash</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 12:00:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,474</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25809814</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omeganixtra/pseuds/Omeganixtra</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Omegas amongst the Guardians have finally begun their Heats and the Tower is going into lockdown for both any entries and exits. Oh, what he wouldn’t do to be outside of his damn apartment right now, lost in the Wilds and free to do whatever he damn well wants, be it fucking or fighting or even something in between. </p><p>But he <i>can’t<i>, because Cayde is stuck here in this fucking shithole of an apartment and all that he can think about in this moment is his Guardian.</i></i></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cayde-6/Female Guardian (Destiny)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Sin Bin - Kink Meme Collection [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1327382</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>57</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Quarterly Lust</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i have no defense of my actions<br/>here, have some porn</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>So there he stands, elbows supporting him as he leans over his portion of the Vanguard table, only halfway listening as Zavala presents the newest safety initiatives required both in- and outside of the Tower following the latest Consensus meeting. </p><p>It’s boring. Of course it’s boring, because it’s the <em>Consensus</em>, and Cayde would rather drizzle acid down his internal pipes than listen to the petty politics and squabbling that always happens between the Factions. </p><p>He shifts his weight and finally leans back up to stretch his body. Something has him constantly shifting and moving around today, even more so than normal, and for the life of him he cannot figure out what it is. A quick glance over at Ikora shows the Warlock Vanguard to be busy writing down notes for probably entirely unrelated reasons than listening to Zavala, if Cayde were to take a wild guess, and he hurries to focus his optics back onto the Commander before he notices Cayde’s not-so-stellar attention. </p><p>“—erefore, following both New Monarchy and Future War Cult’s suggestions, we will be developing more efficient ways of determining the newly Risen Guardians’ Natures.” </p><p>Zavala speaking of the Natures breaks Cayde’s rather impressive bout of boredom. </p><p>It’s not something that he really thinks about all that much when he goes about his business and work every day, the differences between the Guardians, that is. That there are three different designations for the kinderguardians to be slotted into is one thing, but that there are different versions of Guardians<em> besides that</em> is a whole other one. Sometimes, it’s even a pretty good indicator of what class the poor sap belongs to, if the Nature is known before the assortation of the class is. </p><p>Inhaling, Cayde’s receptors immediately begin to log the different scents in the air. He smells the cold of the Void wafting from Ikora, and rolls his shoulders when the crackle of Zavala’s Arc hits home. Their Natures are hidden behind blockers probably, which is a damn shame if Cayde has anything to say about it, because getting a whiff of how your partners feel makes it <em>so much easier </em>when he needs an early exit for the day.  And so far, this looks like it’ll be a long, <em>long </em>day. </p><p>Now, back on focusing, Cayde, there’s time for thinking about Natures later. </p><p>But still. The plating on the back of his neck itches. It’s <em>weird</em>, is what it is, and, as he makes sure to keep his eyes trained on Zavala, he reaches up to scratch at the synth-skin. Ikora raising an eyebrow at his actions has him thrown for a moment, though. </p><p>“Is something wrong, Cayde?” </p><p>Zavala’s drone about the new issues comes to a sudden halt at Ikora’s question, and Cayde suddenly finds himself on the receiving end of two rather, ah,<em> intensive</em> stares. </p><p>He chuckles nervously, shifting his weight again back and forth on his feet. “Nah, just got some itching, nothing to worry ‘bout, Ikora. Probably haven’t been rubbin’ enough polish in lately, that’s all.” </p><p>Ikora frowns before reaching up to press a pair of fingers against her own neck. Huh, that’s weird. </p><p>“What, you got the same issue?” </p><p>Almost absentmindedly Ikora gives him a confirming hum as her attention is drawn to her handheld after a few seconds and she begins fervently flipping through several pages on it. Zavala comes around the table to stand closer to both of them, lips thin and a deep frown between his eyes as he looks between the two of them with a somewhat worried look. </p><p>“What’s going on here, Blue?” Cayde glances at Zavala as worry begins to gnaw away at him. </p><p>“This is… unfortunate.” </p><p>“I ain’t a mindreader, Zavala, so how about sharin’ with the class, yeah?” </p><p>“No doubt both you and Ikora are reacting to the beginnings of the Heats for the coming quarter,” Zavala’s brow rises before a grimace flashes across his face. “I had hoped that it would be a while longer before it truly hit, but it seems that I was incorrect.” </p><p>“What, all of this is ‘cause of <em>pre-Heats</em>?” </p><p>“Indeed," Zavala says. "Why else would you think that the Consensus has been calling for stricter regulations in terms of Guardians interacting with civilians lately?” </p><p>Cayde curses. </p><p>This whole thing with the itching and the restlessness makes so much more sense now that he actually knows what the Hell is going on and can isolate the symptoms in his wonder of an inorganic brain. What isn’t great, however, is what is going to happen during the next ten to fourteen days. </p><p>“So, isolation, I take it?” </p><p>“I am afraid so,” Zavala nods with a grim expression on his face. “Seeing as both of you are Alphas, I doubt that either of you will be any use if the scent inhibitors decide to fail, and I am not one to take that chance.” </p><p>“Me neither,” Cayde grouches. “Eurgh, the barracks are going to be a damn<em> nightmare</em>.” </p><p>“Of that I have no doubt,” Zavala attempting to be considerate is downright adorable in Cayde’s book, but he takes the sympathy anyway as he steps away from the table. “You have my sympathies.” </p><p>“So, I take it that we’re going off duty then, at least for the next few weeks?” </p><p>“Don’t sound too excited there, Cayde. This is not something that can be avoided, but something to be embraced. It is part of your Nature, after all.” </p><p>Cayde makes a face at Ikora’s distracted commentary. “Welp, guess I’ll go prepare the ducklings.” </p><p>“See to it, Hunter Vanguard,” Zavala nods before he turns his head to Ikora. “That goes for the Warlocks as well, Ikora.” </p><p>“Speak for yourself, Zavala,” Ikora’s frown turns to a smirk as she glances up from her handheld and looks at both of her colleagues. “Let us see how damaged our respective barracks are on the other side of this Heat season, and then we can talk.” </p><p>“It is in times like these that I find myself grateful that I do not have the same urges as the two of you,” Zavala sighs and goes back to his post at the end of the long table. “I will have my Ghost forward the relevant reports and paperwork to you as it turns up. See you both of the other side.” </p><p>“To you as well,” Ikora nods as she finishes up by her station and stops to wait for Cayde by the doors as he does the very same. </p><p>The walk back to the Vanguard quarters is spent in quiet up until they reach the intersection leading to each of their abodes. </p><p>“You’ll be alright, Ikora?” </p><p>The Warlock hums affirmatively. “It is sweet of you to worry, Cayde, but there is no need. I believe that meditating will make the worst of it easier to handle once my Rut truly sets in. I would recommend that you do the same, assuming that you have the patience to sit still, of course.” </p><p>“Think I’ll have to make a rain check on that on, Ikora,” Cayde can’t stop rubbing at the back of his neck, and now that he actually<em> knows </em>what it is that is making it itch so damn much, it is practically impossible to <em>stop</em>. </p><p>“You have someone to spend the Heat and Rut cycle with?” </p><p>“Y’know, it’s a whole lot easier working together when you’re <em>not </em>investigatin’ my sex life, Rey. Now, off you trot to your meditation and your… your <em>tea </em>and whatever else you concoct in that Warlock she-cave of yours.” </p><p>“Fine, keep your secrets,” Ikora chuckles and a surprisingly warm expression graces him. “Cayde, be safe, though.” </p><p>“Don’t—ah,” Cayde rolls his shoulders again, feeds the need to stay in motion as he feels the beginnings of possibly unnatural warmth to spread from inside his chest. Something <em> not </em> related to the Solar light that he favors. “Don’t worry ‘bout me, Ikora. I’ll be fine.” </p><p>He gives an awkward wave as he steps away from her and doesn’t dare to look behind him as he hurries down the hallway until he reaches his apartment. </p><p>From the moment that he is behind his own door, however, Cayde presses his back against it and slides down until he is seated on the floor. Without prompting, Sundance flickers into existence before him and gently nuzzles against his neck. </p><p>“You’ll be fine, Cayde.” </p><p>“‘Course I will. If I don’t die of boredom, that is.” </p><p>“We can find something to do.” </p><p>“Rather have some<em>one </em>to do,” he grumbles  almost automatically  before hissing as a sharp pang of  pain shoots down his spine, centering at the nape of his neck.  “Ah, <em>fuck</em>, that smarts!” </p><p>Sundance lets out a concerned chirp as she pokes her eye out from where she is huddled against his neck. “Are you alright, Cayde?” </p><p>“Early rut pangs,” he grunts out and rubs at the back of his neck. The spots where his scent glands would have been if he had still been organic are sore as all Hell. Fucking neuro-responses. “Eh, I’m fine.” </p><p>His body doesn't have the soft skin of an organic body, but his instincts are very much still alive and kicking, despite the fact that he is covered in synth-skin and titanium alloys from head to toe. Hell, even his reproductive organs have remained intact—and how Clovis Bray managed to do<em> that </em>he has no idea. It was probably unethical as all Hell. </p><p>This sudden focus that he has on the situation is like entering a living, breathing Hell, though. Because, now that he actually <em> knows </em> it is coming, it is almost impossible to stop thinking about. </p><p>Cayde can feel it inside his chest, has been able to since he went from the Hall of Guardians with Ikora, but now that he is alone and without anyone but himself and his Ghost, the warmth is beginning to really spread. It’s nothing like the toasty warmth that his Solar Light gives him whenever he utilizes the Traveler’s gifts, but instead a more searing, aching heat that throbs dully inside his chest, and steadily grows with each passing moment. </p><p>It’s absolute Hell. </p><p>It’s absolute <em>bliss</em>. </p><p>“Do you want me to contact Meera?” </p><p>Sundance’s question has Cayde stiffen ever so slightly. </p><p>Stars, he hasn’t even<em> thought </em>about that. </p><p>“Nah, that ain’t a… that ain’t a good mix,” he croaks out. Swallows hard. Traveler above, if he had been organic, his entire body would have drenched his clothes from the amount of sweat that he would be producing. “Is—is it hot in here?” </p><p>“I’ll regulate the temperature,” Sundance, bless her dainty little self, takes the sudden change of subject with grace and flies away to fiddle with the temperature settings of the apartment, leaving Cayde sitting in a heap against his door, blinking slowly as he tugs at his collar. </p><p>The fabric feels strangely rough against the nape of his neck, a feeling that Cayde is only ever familiar with a few times a year. Normally he prides himself on somehow managing to squirrel and bullshit himself far away somewhere outside of the City before pre-Heat season hits every single Guardian in the Tower, but it seems that this time it has managed to catch up with him. </p><p><em> Fuck</em> </p><p>He fiddles with the front of his scarf and Andal’s cloak, quickly tugging it loose as he begins to strip off. As he makes his way towards the bathroom, leaving a trail of clothes behind him, he reckons that it’s probably the nervousness that is making it all feel much more intense than it feels. Nothing that a cooling bath and a good nap won’t fix, probably, and when he wakes up again, he’ll be right as rain and ready to poke fun at Zavala’s choice of Strike names in the morning. </p><p>The bath feels heavenly cool against his suddenly-way-too-hot plating, and the hair dryer’s cool setting even more so as he blows out his various crevices, but it’s the sight of his bed that really gets him going. </p><p>He slithers beneath the covers and curls up with his arms folded beneath his head, staring straight up at his ceiling with an intensity that should probably scare him in any other situation. There are still the faintest lingering scent-traces of him and Meera nestled into the fabrics around him, and a slightly forced whine from his fans makes its way out of his voice box as the smell of it all starts tantalizes his senses. </p><p><em> Omega</em>, his traitorous hindbrain purrs somewhere in the depths of his mind. <em>O</em><em>mega</em>… </p><p><em> Fuck</em> </p><p>This is the one thing that he does not need right now. Of all the fucking things… </p><p>A slightly louder noise of complaint manages to get past his restraint before Cayde gets out of bed, growling and muttering curses the entire time, and stalks towards one of the cupboards in the room. He searches blindly on one of the shelves within for a few moments before he manages to get a hand wrapped around the object that he is looking for, and lets out a triumphant noise when he pulls out a batch of scent blocker. Spraying it obsessively over all of his sheets, pillows and blankets takes but a few minutes, but it is a few minutes where Cayde can feel himself grow more and more irritated the longer that Meera’s scent still lingers in the room. </p><p>Damn woman. </p><p>Finally, after airing the room just for good measure, Cayde can get beneath his now-clean smelling duvet and have that damn nap. </p><p>“Sleep tight, Cayde,” Sundance chirps as she settles beside him in her own little nest of pillows and soft blankets, his own little Guardian angel to watch over him. </p><p>“You too, Sundance,” he grunts out before he settles more firmly against the pillows and mattress as sleep takes hold. </p><p>Just a quick nap, nothing more. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Cayde wakes to an uncomfortable pressure centered on his chest. A quick glance outside clocks it as being sometime in the middle of the night, and Cayde mutters a few choice words as he swings his legs over the bedside and slowly gets out of the bed. </p><p>He lets out a wheezing, unnecessary breath as he stumbles his way out of the bedroom and once more into the bathroom. The heating sensation from earlier is back with a vengeance, and not only is it pressing on the vents located across his chest and back, but the telltale annoyance and anger that follows along with Ruts is boiling just below the surface. </p><p>“Do you want me to contact Ikora?” </p><p>The words that Cayde lets out should not be repeated under any circumstances whatsoever. </p><p>Sundance huffs at his antics before she disappears back into the bedroom. Cayde grunts at his Ghost before he slams the bathroom door shut and pads over to the shower stall. The attempt at cooling down through icy water might not be a very <em> good </em> idea in the long run, and especially not for his water bill, but it’s the best bet that he currently has. </p><p>As he stands below the stream of blessedly cool water, Cayde leans the side of his head against the tiles in the stall and lets of a huff of annoyance. </p><p>Traveler above, but this is going to be a trying set of days. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>It’s the next day when Cayde receives an update on the whole situation from Zavala. A very<em> structural </em>and very <em>thorough </em>update that might as well be called a field report, because that is damn well what it looks like in Cayde’s own – not so – humble opinion. </p><p>The Omegas amongst the Guardians have finally begun their Heats and the Tower is going into lockdown for both any entries and exits. Oh, what he wouldn’t do to be outside of his damn apartment right now, lost in the Wilds and free to do whatever he damn well wants, be it fucking or fighting or even something in between. </p><p>But he<em> can’t</em>, because Cayde is stuck <em>here </em>in this fucking shithole of an apartment and all that he can think about in this moment is Meera. </p><p>He thinks about the way that her body feels wrapped around his, how deliciously soft her skin feels against his synth skin and plates, how sweet her moans might very well sound if they were here, <em>together</em>. A ragged groan manages to slip out before he can kill the feed to his voice box and Cayde reaches out towards the wall to steady himself as a shudder rushes through his body. </p><p>His cock is throbbing, and it is with visible restraint that he forces his remaining free hand to stay clenched at his side and not strafe down towards his crotch to bring relief. </p><p>Oh, he has it <em>bad</em>. </p><p>And he’s all alone. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Day One after "the Outbreak", as Cayde is lovingly referring to the whole thing in his mind, is pretty uneventful. </p><p>He answers a few questions through his handheld that his Hunters have sent him, probably the ones who are lucky and being out in the field, has another nap and spends the rest of the time pacing everywhere inside his apartment, slowly getting more and more stir crazy. </p><p>Oh, and also rutting against every single soft object that he can get his hands on. </p><p>It is<em> not </em>a pretty sight. </p><p>Sundance has thankfully disappeared to wherever it is that Ghosts go when they are not being called upon to resurrect their idiot Guardians or scanning alien objects, so she is not experiencing any of the pathetic alleviations Cayde is trying. </p><p>The pressure inside his chest, and now in his crotch as well, is unbearable no matter how many times he lubes up his cock and fucks into his fist, frantic for release. His sheets are a mess in every sense of the word, and pretty much every part of his bedroom is <em>soaked </em>in the scent of his release, but it isn’t doing anything for him. </p><p>By afternoon there are phantom pains tearing through his jaw, as if there are teeth being forcibly pressed against the metal, aches that can only be alleviated by biting into flesh or a gland and<em> marking </em>another Light-filled being. The back of his neck is unbearable to touch, his entire body feels as if the synth skin is too tightly stretched across it, and Cayde <em>wants</em>. </p><p>He wants and he wants and he wants until he can barely even remain conscious, but there is no Omega to alleviate the pressure and the want inside of him, and once more Cayde comes with a howl, sending a spray of his seed across the soaked sheets without finding proper release. </p><p>Cayde denies it once more when Sundance wants to send for Ikora. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Day number two begins at the crack of dawn with a thunderous knocking on his door. It gets more and more frantic the longer it takes Cayde to actually register it through the haze that he has found himself trapped in, and is <em>just </em>persistent enough for him to actually want to take care of whatever it is—if only to get some damn peace. </p><p>He is sleep deprived from trying to settle down the myriads of sensations that keep overwhelming his nervous system, and his entire body is sore from rutting desperately against his sheets throughout the entire night, but still he manages to get up and slowly makes his way to the door. Glancing down his body, he debates actually going back to the bedroom and find some pants before opening the door to greet whoever had the idiotic idea to come knocking <em> now </em> of all times, but on the other hand he really could not give less of a fuck right now. </p><p>Fuck it, no pants it is. </p><p>Cayde hauls open the door, ready to give whoever is on the other side the most scathing look he can possibly muster, only to freeze by what immediately assaults his olfactory system. </p><p><em> Omega </em> </p><p>He automatically takes a step forward before even realizing what he is doing, reaches for the bundle of sweet smelling, intoxicating being only a few feet away from where he is standing, but then— </p><p>“<em>Vanguard</em>!” </p><p>A voice snaps through the fog that envelops Cayde in a thick, cozy blanket, and automatically he raises his proverbial hackles. His vision clears, and where he before saw only a blurred-out image in front of him, now he sees that the bundle in front of him is in fact <em>not </em>a bundle, but a pair of Guardians. </p><p>A pair of Guardians that he actually <em>knows</em>. </p><p>“The Hell are you doing here?” he rasps out, wincing when his voice shorts out at the end. </p><p>Tora looks like he’s seen a ghost before he frowns as the smell from Cayde’s apartment no doubt hits his nose and for a moment it looks like he’s just about ready to bolt away, but then the other Guardian hanging off on him lets out a low keen and both his and Cayde’s attention are centered on her. </p><p>“She began to feel strange when we passed Venus a few days ago,” Tora blurts out and yanks Meera closer when she begins to slip from his grip. Cayde’s eyes never leave her at any moment. “When she began reeking up the ship I turned around and came to find you.” </p><p>“Meera?” Cayde hears his voice as if he’s under water. It sounds distorted and alien without the robotic overlay. “What is she<em> doin</em>’ here, Warlock? The whole Tower is under lockdown, there’s a fucking Heat Season happening as we speak!” </p><p>Meera lets out a garbled moan as Tora shifts his weight from one foot to the other. Her head is slumped forward and her hair is hanging limply around it like a dark curtain—it’s hard to even see her eyes behind them, but Cayde will bet anything that they’re closed in an attempt to stem the sudden,<em> violent</em>, intake of stimulus. </p><p>“You’re together, right?” Tora is growing more frantic in both his behavior and his voice now, his grip around Meera tightening. “Can’t you help her?” </p><p><em> Yes </em> <em> yesyesyesyesyesyes!</em> a voice inside Cayde screams viciously, a voice that wants him to reach out and take her and shut the door and hide both of them away until there is nothing but <em>them </em>and a <em>nest </em>and <em>mating</em>. </p><p>Cayde just as viciously stomps down that damn thing inside of him, and instead settles with a slightly muffled “Fuck’s sake!” before he once more tries to reach out towards Meera. This time he makes sure to make no sudden movements, only reason being that this time he is actually aware of who is here and the one person who has brought Meera to him can just as easily take her away from him, too.  </p><p>Right now, his most important job is reassuring the frantic Beta in front of him, and he’ll do pretty much anything to actually make that happen. The heady scent of Omega and Heat is wafting off of her in <em>waves</em>, and it is a mystery to Cayde how in the name of the Traveler that Tora has managed to get through the barracks and every single security measure scattered throughout the Tower. </p><p>This time Tora hands her over without a fuss after making a hasty check over his shoulder, and Cayde wastes no time in dragging Meera as close to him as humanly possible. This close her scent is like getting a Striker Titan’s shoulder charge to the face, and Cayde reels for a moment as he settles her against him. One arm curls around her shoulders, protectively, and the other turns her head in towards the crook of his neck as Cayde leans down to breathe her in even further. </p><p>Oh, but she is <em>intoxicating</em>. </p><p>Tora, at this point, looks more or less like he is about to throw up. </p><p>“Alright, so you’ve got her,” Tora looks visibly more relaxed now that he actually has his hands free of Meera and takes a step backwards, probably intent on leaving. “You take care of her, alright?” </p><p>Far quicker than Tora can manage to slink away, Cayde’s hand whips out to grab the front of his robes. </p><p>His eyes narrow and a mechanical growl rumbles from deep inside his chest. “No. Disturbances.” </p><p>The squeaky noise that gets out from the flustered Warlock is enough to assure Cayde for the moment, and he wastes no time in dragged the Omega in his arms inside, slamming the door shut, locking it, and finally—<em>finally</em>—get a chance to get a look at her. </p><p>Cayde’s first impression is that she is<em> drenched </em>in sweat—no doubt from either the pre-Heat or actual Heat running through her system—and that she smells fucking <em>delicious </em>. His second impression is that she is far too unresponsive for his liking. </p><p>He maneuvers her further into the apartment and settles her on the couch he has spent much of his nightly activities on, uncaring as he throws a blanket and a capped half-drunk bottle of water to the ground to make space for the two of them. His hands come up to wipe her hair out of her face so he can get an actual look at her, and what he finds has him reeling. </p><p>Meera’s breaths come out in brief huffs that barely manage to fog up the plating that she is still somewhat leaning against, and there is an almost dopey smile stretched across her face as she breathes in the scents around her. </p><p>“‘ayde?” she mumbles and one eye opens halfway. From what he can see, her pupil is dilated to the point where there is nothing left of her beautiful dark irises for him to get lost in. </p><p>“Right here, sweetheart,” he soothes her with a press of his mouth-plates against her forehead and a gentle stroke of his fingers up the side of her neck. The satisfied noise that she lets out at his ministrations has him feeling warm all the way down to the tips of his toes. “I’m right here.” </p><p>“Hot,” she complains and swats uselessly at the buckles and straps of her uniform. “‘s so<em> hot</em>.” </p><p>“I know it is, Mee, I know,” Cayde’s thumb caresses her cheekbone. Briefly looking about, he locates the previously-discarded plastic bottle of water and reaches out for it. “Here, drink this. You’ll feel better.” </p><p>The amount of trust that she must have in him is staggeringly high because she accepts the bottle without a single complaint when he holds it up for her, and the hum of appreciation that she lets out when he supports it as she drinks is electrifying. Something inside of him preens with pride of being useful, of fulfilling a need for his Omega. </p><p>Cayde watches almost religiously as she empties the entire bottle, even uses the pad of his thumb to wipe away a stray droplet hanging from her lower lip, and the heat that envelops him almost has him blow another load right then and there. </p><p><em> Fuck</em>, but Omega scents are potent shit. </p><p>“Want you,” she whines, having given up on her own uniform and is now making adorably clumsy attempts at pawing at his bare body. “<em>Cayde</em>.” </p><p>When her hand brushes against his cock it feels like electricity trickling up his spine, and Cayde lets out a ragged moan as he instinctively jerks towards her. </p><p>“Alpha!” Meera begs with tears in her eyes as she looks up at him. “<em>Please</em>…” </p><p>Cayde closes his eyes. </p><p>This is going too fast, too much is happening all at once for him, and it is with monumental mental strength that he tries to wrangle himself out of the grasp that Meera has on him.  </p><p>He wants her, there is no doubt in his mind there, but not when she is still reeking of jumpship fuel and well-used, sweaty Hunter uniform. Cayde moves away from her questing touch and placates both of them with peppering light kisses against her heated skin. When she tries to follow his vacating touch, Cayde’s hands immediately come down from her cheek and neck to instead lock around her shoulders to keep her from advancing further. </p><p>“Meera, how ‘bout a little break, yeah?” he manages to get out. “Let’s get you cleaned up an—<em>ah</em>!” </p><p>She presses against his erection, firmer this time, and Cayde nearly bends in half at the feedback that his sensors send to his brain. As it is, he bucks almost violently against her hand before he forces himself to stand as still as possible.  </p><p>“<em>Meera</em>!” Cayde hisses, although it comes out more like static and less like an actual intelligent noise. </p><p>With jerky motions he yanks her up from the couch, taking a brief moment to pray to the Traveler or whatever deities there might be out there when she wraps her legs around his waist and makes a grinding motion against his abdominal plating, and immediately begins dragging her with him into the bathroom. He fumbles for a moment when he has to tighten his grip around her thighs, causing his fingers to dip into the soaked fabric clinging to her skin between them, and that is when he leans heavily against the wall, breathing hard as if he’s just run a fucking marathon, with a mewling, needy woman in his arms. Her skin is slick with sweat from the Heat that is beginning to set in, and Cayde would be lying if he said that the scent of her wasn’t already<em> this</em> close to make him fuck her brains out. </p><p>She clings to him and buries her face in his neck, pressing rather <em>distracting </em>kisses to the synth-skin there, and lets out noises that Cayde under any other circumstance would record and save several hundred times over. </p><p>As she is busy paying attention to every single part of him that she can get her dainty little hands on, Cayde finally manages to get the two of them inside his bathroom. Banging his hip against the counter draws out a hiss of pain from him, but that is apparently enough of a distraction for Meera to look up from where she is busy pseudo-mauling his neck with her teeth. </p><p>Big, dark eyes look up at him before they flicker down to his hip, and one hand hesitantly moves down to cover the area. Her fingers spreads across the plating and synth-skin, infinitely gentle and she frowns. When Cayde brushes his hand along her jawline she moves her gaze up to him once more. He smiles at her frown and smooths it away with his fingers, causing the smallest of smiles to grace her own face. </p><p>“Alpha,” she breathes and leans her forehead against his. “My Alpha…” </p><p>“Yours,” Cayde croons and nuzzles her cheek with his. This is something that he can handle, rubbing against her until she is covered in his scent and <em>nothing else</em>. There is still the thick scent of sweat and jumpship, as well as something that he vaguely suspects is Cabal fuel, lingering in the air, but now that he has gotten the chance to actually rub off on her it doesn’t seem as big of a deal as it did before. </p><p>Maybe he could even— </p><p><em> NO </em> </p><p>Cayde snaps out of it when his hand brushes against the gland on the back of Meera’s neck and her following moan rings inside of the closed room. </p><p>“Shower,” he mumbles. “Need to shower. Then bed.” </p><p>“Bed <em>now</em>,” she sniffs and just keeps looking at him with those big, adoring eyes. “Cayde, come on, please!” </p><p>“Bed <em>la</em><em>ter</em>,” he repeats, more firmly this time, and begins the painstaking process of peeling her out of her armor. “Shower <em>n</em><em>ow.</em>” </p><p>It is not the most intricate of armor that she is wearing—thank the fucking Traveler—but it still has enough belt buckles and zippers that Cayde begins to feel the annoyance build inside of him the longer that this fucking undressing is taking. More of her skin is bared, yes, and Cayde sure as shit gets busy running his hands all over it as soon as possible, but it is taking too damn <em>long</em>, and he is many things, but a patient man is not currently one of them. </p><p>He resorts to ripping her out of it, instead. </p><p>The mewling protest that Meera voices is replaced with a pleased moan when he finishes wrangling the last scraps of clothing off her body and immediately puts his hands on her. </p><p>Her skin is soft, <em>amazing</em>, and Cayde just can’t get enough of it. He runs his hands across it again and again, seemingly unable to get enough of just one passage over it as he drags her with him towards the by-now well used shower stall. </p><p>Traveler’s crack, what the fuck is he gonna do? </p>
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